I was looking through my closet (cleaning it out for a garage sale), and came across this cashmere sweater. It looks exactly like this. And I thought to myself: why am I still keeping this? I mean I don't wear it at all. I have never slumped it across my shoulders, even when it was time for sweaters.
The reason I grabbed it from my mother's pile of clothes that her bosses give her was because I read about it in a novel. White Oleander by Janet Fitch. If nobody knows the story, its about a girl whose mother is committed for murdering her boyfriend and her daughter is taken through a series of foster homes, each one different from the next. It was an amazing read, and I love this novel with every fiber of my being. I just love the way Astrid (the daughter) is so hollow and then becomes such a complex person through each of the encounters she comes across with.
Anyways, on with the reason I am talking about this sweater. One of the maternal figures (who was actually a whore so I don't know if she can classify as a maternal figure but for the sake of argument I'll label her as such) buys her a cashmere sweater, claiming that what's real is always worth it. And its true, because cashmere sweaters costs a bunch! But overall, this simple sentence made me think, if what I want in life is not real, then why waste my time on something that is not worth it?
So there really should be no reason for having a sweater that I don't use. I would rather sell it to someone that will take it out into the sun. Like the last foster mother said to Astrid, "You want to remember, just remember..."
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